


Axe To Grind

by orphan_account



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Domination, Exhibitionism, Fighting Kink, Gore, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mutilation, Rape, lowkey necrophilia, there's some other spicy stuff but idk how to tag it so just watch out I guess, trapper is real nasty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 12:50:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20046319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: David King is a man with a thousand grudges. The only person who feels the same happens to be the last person he should be pissing off. When an exciting new plan goes poorly, it turns out David has bitten off more than he can chew for once.





	Axe To Grind

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags. I obviously do not condone anything presented in this work.
> 
> I'm sorry, Dwight. I don't hate you, but you're the perfect punching bag.

The sting of oxygen biting at his open wound. The sweat rolling down his body, causing his shirt to cling to the slick of his back. The burning sensation of acid stagnating in his muscles. All signs of a good fight, and David knows no better feeling in the world.

“That bloke has it out for me. I don’t even know what I did!” David bears his teeth to be a little cheeky about it, but the positivity doesn’t seem to reach the girl patching him up.

Though their supplies are extremely limited, Claudette seems completely comfortable working with what amounts to a couple dirty rags and some antiseptic. It’s not going to make the pain go away or anything, but a drop of blood giving away his location is the last thing David needs. Anything they can do to keep themselves in top shape is worth it. “Are you sure you didn’t do something to make him peeved off at you? I mean, it’s pretty easy to make a killer mad.”

“Nah mate, I’ve been playin’ as clean as a man can. He’s got something personal against me, I swear on me mum.”

“You could try being a little less reckless...” She bites down on her lip a bit as she finishes wrapping the gash running down David’s arm. “Just lay low for a bit and maybe he’ll forget about you, David.”

David just blows air out of his nose. Her soft French-Canadian accent is honestly a little hard to parse, but he also really doesn’t want to strain his ears just to hear the same old complaints he’s been hearing for years. “And what, let Dwight run him around? That wanker will last all of four seconds with a killer on his heels.”

“Well, I mean, Nea’s here too. And there’s me.” Claudette straightens her back and picks the remnants of her medkit up off the ground. The sounds of metal howling in the distance brings Autohaven Wreckers to life. The distant lights of the garage pollute the dark sky. She peeks around the corner of the car they’re hiding behind to see if anyone’s nearby. “I think you need to trust us more. We’re supposed to be a team.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe if you guys did your part, it’d feel more like it.” David tries to flex the muscles in his arm and a sharp pain shoots through him. The damaged flesh screams out, stopping his movement, but it’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. Hell, this is miles from the worst thing he’s been through. Back in the real world, a drunk fellow did far worse with just a rusty spoon.

The futility of their conversation starts sinking in, so Claudette just frowns as she disappears into the shadows. There’s a nearby gen that he could help her with, but David just assumes the worst and figures she’s just gonna hide in a locker for the rest of the match. They’re all the same. Cowardly clowns, the lot of them. All they do is run and hide ‘til someone drags them out of their holes. David’s jaw sets as he starts off towards the most likely place the killer will be. Working on a genny alone sounds like a boring job.

Wooden shrapnel litters the open field before the auto shop. Burning tires serve as beacons for where pallets used to be. Their little game of cat and mouse from earlier went a lot longer than David would have liked, exhausting every possible resource they had, but hey, it was still a victory for him, albeit uncomfortably narrow. His eyes shoot around his surroundings, desperately scanning for any remaining place to loop the killer around. The only thing still standing is the main structure, though. No matter. If there’s one thing that David learned back home, it was how to fight in tight spaces.

Hell, maybe there’s something in there that he could use to fight back with. No more of this running around shit, eh? A grin creeps its way onto David’s ugly mug. Nobody will be able to say he ain’t shit if he could knock a killer straight out. Major big dick points right there. Just need something good to come swingin’ with...

Whoever finished the gen in the garage is long gone already. A couple bear traps sit by the exits, but with the shutter doors open, there’s barely a chance anyone would step in ‘em anyway. No surprise that the others didn’t have the balls to try and disarm them, though. There doesn’t seem to be any signs of life nearby, not even the killer, so David shrugs and walks over to one of the traps by the window. Doesn’t take much skill at all to get rid of one of these fuckers-- just a quick hand and a bit of boldness.

The rusty blades of the bear trap blend in well in the fog, but anyone with a sharp eye can spot ‘em from a mile away. Kneeling down in front of it, David stretches his good arm out into its jaws. He takes a deep breath, amping himself up for that crucial fraction-of-a-second movement, and then he shoots his hand down onto the pressure plate. His shoulder yanks back as fast as it can. A sickening crunch echoes out into the night and a spray of blood splashes onto David’s white muscle shirt.

Most of his arm manage to clear the trap’s jaws, but the blades are just the tiniest bit faster than him. The upper half of his fingers cleave off at the joints. A little puddle of blood forms at his feet as he clenches his jaw so hard that it feels like his teeth might shatter. It takes all of his self-control to not let his tongue flap about and start swearing into the night sky. He just crouches there, clutching his bloody hand as hard as he can with his bad arm. Whatever. It’s okay. This is brilliant, actually! Just another story to tell at the campfire. David laughs to himself like it’ll make the pain go away. He’s no pussy. This is fucking nothing. You don’t take a chainsaw to the gut and then complain about a couple missing fingers.

Leaving the wound open probably ain’t the best idea, though, even if he can just shake it off, so David strips his rather tight tank top off and rips it into long strips of fabric. He wraps the cloth around his finger stumps and draws it tight to cull the bleeding a bit. All he has to do is get to the end of the trials and he’ll get his fingers back. Everything is under control, as it always is.

A shiver runs down his back. And no, it’s not because he’s cold without his shirt. The hair standing up on his neck can only mean one thing: that ugly bastard’s back for more. Probably heard the damn trap trigger. David just takes a deep breath in and forces a grin. A plan quickly formulates inside his head, in which David finds a shovel or something and downs the fucker before he even knows what’s happening. It’s perfect. Before the Trapper can see him standing around like a clown, David ducks away into the front of the shop. He crouches down behind a run-down shelf and scans around for anything he could use. Most of it’s just weird junk, but luckily, there’s a broken length of piping by the window that’s just the right size for a good swing to the noggin.

David thanks his gut feeling when the Trapper stomps into the room only a moment later. He stops in the doorway, boots crunching the glass covering the floor. A frustrated growl rumbles out of him as he starts pacing down the aisles, craning his neck around to try and find the wounded animal that got out of his trap. David also ends up thanking the Lord above as the Trapper turns to check the other side of the store first, giving David enough time to creep after the man and get the jump on him. Eventually, the Trapper turns a corner, which allows David to lunge forward and put his plan into action.

He swings with all the might he can muster. The metal pipe smashes into the back of the Trapper’s head, resulting in a resounding crack. His mask flies off and clatters against the floor as he collapses. David hefts the pipe up and stares at the blood that coats the back of it. And then he just starts laughing to himself. He actually did it. He actually just floored one of the biggest and baddest killers out there. The Legion kids can barely even carry him so kicking their asses ain’t too hard, but the Trapper is on a whole ‘nother level. Holy shit.

His laughter dies pretty quickly, however, when he notices the Trapper start moving again. All he can do is watch as the hulking monster of a man pushes himself up off the ground, picks his machete up, and turns around to stare at him. Unmasked, David can finally see the Trapper’s expression: eyes burning with rage, teeth bared, eyebrows as low as they can go. The blood that covering the side of his head is already dried up, like he had never been hurt in the first place.

Fuck.

David honestly should have known that the Entity would just wish away any kind of serious injuries the killers get. The fight was never fair in the first place, but it makes sense, really. Now, the Trapper moves with passion. David’s heart sinks and so does his whole body when the Trapper’s swing barely misses the top of his head as he dodges out of the way. Before the Trapper gets the chance to recover, he clambers back to his feet and throws himself out a window, the gravel scratching at his bare skin as he rolls to break his fall.

Jumping up from the ground, David flips around and watches the Trapper clearing the window with a single step. The chase has already begun, it seems. No time to waste moping about, so he starts off towards the last potentially helpful structure he saw, but uh, that was a long ways away from the auto shop. The rational part of him doubts that he can make it that far before the Trapper catches up, but the much more influential part of his brain tells him that there’s no possible way he’d let himself get caught after getting this far.

Just as he slides over the hood of a broken car, David hears a horn blare as the final generator gets finished. The floodlights lining the walls spark into life and shower the trial in light. It almost burns David’s eyes as he runs towards a decrepit bus. Vaulting through the open windows could win him some distance, but his only hope of getting out alive is by making it to the nearest exit gate before the hound on his heels gets too close. That would mean that one of his fuckin’ potato teammates would have to get it open while he’s running the killer around, and that’s definitely not gonna fuckin’ happen. David grinds his teeth together as he gathers the last of his adrenaline and makes a desperate sprint towards that yellow heap of scrap metal.

The Trapper’s hand barely grazes his shoulder as he falls through the open window, narrowly avoiding getting grabbed. The speed at which he dove sends him crashing into the wall, though David manages to pick himself up despite the daze. Before he can even register what’s going on, though, the Trapper rears his arm and chucks his machete through the window. The blade crashes against the wall right next to David’s head. It clatters to the ground before a deafening silence overtakes them both. It’s only a second until the Trapper growls out a series of curses underneath his breath and heaves himself through the opening, but David’s already gone by the time he gets through.

That was definitely a new trick, all right. David can’t help but feel a little shaken by the palpable desperation of the situation, especially considering there’s nothing but open field between him and the exit gate looming in the distance. The next closest thing is the killer shack. If he went there then he could guarantee some safety, but then he wouldn’t be making any progress towards escaping. Was the gate even open yet, though? David just furrows his brow at the thought. He’d rather die a brave man than get cornered at a dead-end.

His footsteps echo in the night as he runs into the killer shack. The wooden planks beneath him squeal as he turns on a dime, moving to vault through the window. The shack pallet has already been smashed to oblivion, so his only option with the Trapper so close is to work with the only window. Taking a deep breath of blind faith, David throws himself through the window, mentally prepared to feel the cold embrace of a bear trap wrap around his leg. His feet hit the grass, and then-- nothing. His chest sinks with relief. It only takes a second for David to collect himself and keep running.

Oh, wait. There’s the trap.

The blades sink into his calf muscles, causing him to fall to the ground in anguish. The metal grinds against his flesh with the movement. He lets out a scream filled with nothing but rage, directed at both himself and the Trapper. All the emotion spills out of him at once, in both the form of swear words and blood. It isn’t even worth trying to pry the trap open, since he can already feel the Trapper right behind him. The fucker’s laughing, too. He’s fucking laughing at him. Normally, David would just accept death at this point, but there’s no fucking way that he’s gonna lie down and die now.

Just as the Trapper leans down to collect his prize, David picks up a rock from the ground and swings it into the killer’s face. A spray of blood flies and the Trapper recoils a bit, but he just stands up straight after. The chuckling stops. David tries to act as cool as he can with his leg still stuck in a bear trap. This time, he’s the one laughing.

“What’s so funny?!” The Trapper snaps, his voice scaring the shit out of David. It’s already rare enough to hear a killer talk, but to hear them speak with that much emotion is even more unheard of. Unamused with David’s attempt at regaining dignity, he stomps his foot down on the trap while yanking David to the side. A sickening crunch sends David into hysterics as his leg snaps in a direction it should never bend. His screaming doesn’t stop the Trapper from pulling him further and further until the resistance finally gives. There’s one last pop and just like that, David’s lower leg is in two pieces.

The world spins as the Trapper carries him towards the exit gate, away from the bloody pulp still stuck in the trap. His entire body is consumed by a raging combustion of tortured nerve endings. The Entity can’t come collect him soon enough.

David doesn’t regain any semblance of composure until the Trapper throws him down to the ground, his back hitting a stack of tires. He cranes his neck to the side to try to figure out where he is, but the only thing near him is the exit gate. It’s open. Nea and Claudette are standing on the other side, clicking flashlights like their lives depend on it. The Trapper just stands there and stares at them. Malice seethes out of him, filling the air with a suffocating energy. Instead of chasing them out, though, he kneels down and flips David around so that his head is resting on top of the tire stack.

The flashlight clicking stops when the Trapper rips off their clothes and shoves his cock into David’s sweaty ass. Waves of pain compound inside David as the Trapper stretches his virgin hole. He thrusts in and out as hard as possible, his hairy balls slapping against David’s tight ass. There’s so much going on, so much pain, that David can’t focus on anything. No, tears just form in his eyes as Nea and Claudette disappear into the fog. He’s glad they left him to die. Nobody should see him being violated like this, but a part of David wishes they would’ve fucking done something.

Anything.

All David does is bite down on his tongue until the Trapper pulls out and spills a load of cum onto his bare ass. He tries to will his body into fighting back one more time, but the blood loss has already taken away any strength he could’ve used. Everything feels so heavy yet his mind is racing so fast. The brick walls are closing in and David can’t stop them from crushing him. The claustrophobia is getting worse and he’s screaming again.

When the Trapper finally catches his breath, he curves his body around David and leans his face down close to his ear. Bloody hands run over David’s chest, feeling up all the muscle as the fingers work their way down to his abs. David twitches under the Trapper’s cold touch, but he can’t wiggle away when there’s an arm pushing his face into the burnt tires.

“You’re amazing.” The Trapper laughs to himself as his hand reaches David’s uncut cock. His fingers wrap around him until the blood starts rushing and it turns into a half-hearted erection. “Do you know how great your ass looks when you vault through a window?” He continues playing with David’s dick despite the increasingly angry grunts coming out of him. It’s hard to get a good grip with David bucking so much, but the Trapper manages to lock his legs around David’s so that they’re both perfectly still as he starts jerking him off. “Running around without a shirt, playing with me like that… I can’t help but get hard when you scream. You must want it so bad.”

“Rot in hell, ya cunt!” David barks out. His arms shoot in a burst of power to try and throw the Trapper off of him, but the weight on top of him is too much to overcome. “I’ll tear you apart, motherfucker!”

Frowning, the Trapper uses his free hand to twist David’s bad arm around in ways it was never supposed to be bend. The pain elicits a few good screams out of David, intermixed with bouts of strangled orgasmic gasps. “Do you really think you should be talking like that?” The Trapper rumbles.

“Choke and die.” David digs his nails into the rubber of the tires, desperately trying to ground himself. The fog clouding his mind is lifting ever so slowly, but the more sober he gets, the more the pain catches up with him. The Entity won’t let him bleed out so quickly with the trial still technically going. Sick bastard’s probably getting off on this, knowing the Entity. The scary part, though, is that David can’t even fathom how much worse this all would feel if the Entity wasn’t keeping him off death’s doorstep.

Eventually, the Trapper gives up on getting David to actually cum as it’s getting to be far too much of a struggle, so he steps away, slides his overalls back on, and throws the mangled survivor onto his shoulder. David doesn’t give even a single wiggle as he’s carried off to the basement in the killer shack. Truth be told, the Trapper would have liked a bit more of a fight, but he didn’t expect much after taking half a leg from David. Wouldn’t be a fair fight, would it?

A hook never meets David’s shoulder, unfortunately. Instead, he hits the cold ground hard. Instinct kicks in and David tries to drag himself off the floor, but before he can even balance himself on his good knee, the Trapper grabs hold of him and starts tying his arms behind his back with a frayed rope. David doesn’t particularly mind at this point. He’s stopped feeling any sort of real emotion. He simply stares at nothing with a dead expression as the Trapper carefully watches him. Perhaps he is simply marveling at David’s wonderful naked body, made even more perfect by the blood staining his skin, or maybe he’s plotting out how he’s going to finally kill him. The latter, of course, would be much more preferable.

It’s not long until the Trapper gets bored of waiting for a dying man to count down the last minutes of his life, so he disappears around the bend of the stairs to go do God knows what. And with that, David’s left alone with only his warped thoughts to keep him company. At some point, he tries to break out of his rope confines, but that goes nowhere. Can’t even prop himself up into a sitting position. The only thing he can do is wait until his brain starts shutting off all the nerve endings that are still screaming at him.

When his body finally stops caring about the pain, the weight of it all hits hard. The toughest man in the whole UK, out of all the survivors, is reduced to tears on a basement floor. Fat tears run down his face and soak up all the dirt caked on his skin. He’s sobbing, desperately trying to be quiet, but it’s so fucking hard.

What a fuckin’ pussy, eh?

Time crawls so slowly. Every second feels like a minute and every minute feels like an hour. A throbbing migraine has taken the place of any feeling. By the time David hears something moving upstairs, it’s getting hard to even cry. Footsteps echo from above him, shaking dirt off the rafters. He counts each stair as the Trapper comes down them. He counts each second until he dies. The man turns the corner and stares at David.

“David?!” Dwight gasps in surprise as he runs over to David’s side. “What happened to you?”

David’s breath catches in his throat as he tries to come up with something to tell to Dwight. “You came back for me.” It’s all he can manage to say. His tongue feels so slippery in his mouth.

“I was opening the other gate when I, I saw you getting--”

“Don’t.” A pang of emotion runs through David and he clenches his jaw tight. The shame he feels just makes him want to keep fighting. “Just untie me. Gotta get out.”

“Okay, yeah.” Dwight’s hands run over the ropes until his fingers find the knot in the back. He’s shaking as he starts working on getting it undone. The nervous sway of his hands gets in the way of untying the knot, and before he can finish, he lets out a scream. A hand on his shoulder throws him back, and a blade to the gut keeps him from getting back up.

The Trapper grins from ear to ear. The mask was a lot less disturbing to look at, honestly. “Found you.”

“You’re a real cunt, you know that?” David growls, twisting around so that he can give the Trapper his best death glare.

“You already called me that, yes.” He doesn’t move at all after impaling Dwight. He merely stands over the boy’s body and stares some more.

David can feel his heart weakly pulsing in his chest. With each beat, his vision darkens. “What the fuck do you want me from me, you fat fuck? Just kill me already and shove off.”

“Why would I kill you now that we’re finally together?” The Trapper adds a sing-songy tone to his voice. It’s the kind of sound that makes you just wanna punch a bitch in the mouth. “Dwight was even kind enough to join us. It would have been such a pity if he hadn’t shown up.”

“Is your ass jealous of the amount of shit that just came out of your mouth?” David grins to himself in a tiny act of defiance. If he’s going to die in arguably the worst way possible, he might as well try to make the most of it.

The Trapper, unfortunately, does not have any sort of comeback to that. Instead of providing banter, he leans down, plucks Dwight’s groaning body off the ground, and drags him over to David. His guts peak out of his stomach from where the Trapper had stabbed him. The white of his shirt is completely stained dark brown due to the muddy mess of his own blood. Like a girl playing with dolls, the Trapper forces them into specific positions and kicks them whenever they fall out of line. David ends up with his side balanced against the wall with his face against the ground, while Dwight sits on his knees behind him. The position is all too familiar, and David’s suspicions are confirmed when the Trapper tears off Dwight’s clothes too

“I’ll let you out alive if you fuck David in the ass.” Their captor says it so matter-of-factly.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” David hisses out, though as soon as he tries to twist himself around to knock Dwight away, the Trapper’s boot meets his face and kicks him back into position. “Die with me, Dwight.”

An upsettingly long silence follows before Dwight presses in close. His trembling hands wrap around David’s hip bones. The mess of blood and cum coating David’s hairy ass is very far from inviting, but Dwight’s will to live is stronger than the disgust he feels. With the Trapper standing by to beat down any kind of resistance, Dwight works his dick with his hand until it’s hard enough to slide into David’s hole. Luckily, it’s already been stretched out from the Trapper’s much larger member, though the amount of bodily fluids leaking out is frightening.

“Harder.” The Trapper points his blade at Dwight, who has only managed to insert his cock thus far. “I want you to make him scream.”

Even though his throat is closing in on itself, making it almost impossible to even breath, David gasps out another threat to his least favorite people. “I’m gonna to fuckin’ kill you both.”

“David, I’m so sorry--”

“Don’t apologize to him.” The Trapper barks, waving his machete around like a baton.

Slowly, Dwight starts pumping in and out, desperately trying to work up enough energy to please the Trapper. The friction of the thrusting isn’t even blurred out by the viscous fluids in his ass, as the myriad cuts and tears lining his rectum burn with the heat of a thousand suns. Growls of misery spill out of David even though he tries his hardest to keep silent. He wants to deny the Trapper what he wants so bad, but that’s a tall order when it hurts so bad.

When Dwight finally manages to make himself cum, his hands slip away and there’s nothing holding David up anymore. His body falls limp, collapsing under the heavy weight of living. They’re both sniveling remainders of human beings, but their luckily for Dwight, the Trapper’s blade swings down and digs into his neck.

Spurts of blood shoot out as the machete hacks into his arteries, viciously cleaving his head from his body. Eventually the fleshy pulp of his neck splits in two and Dwight’s laying on the ground in pieces like a shattered china plate. A puddle of blood swallows everything around them and traces the perimeter of David’s ghastly skin. The Trapper heaves his chest in and out. His red hands curl into fists as he straightens his back.

“What do you want from me?”

“Already told you, my pet.” He cocks his head to the side with a crooked smile balancing his face. “I just want to have some fun.”

“I think you’ve had enough.” David says it like he has an ace up his sleeve, but there’s absolutely nothing he can do. Even with the Entity keeping him alive, the world’s getting fuzzy. His skin is deathly pale, veins emptying of blood. His body’s too heavy to move. So heavy, in fact, that David can’t even keep his eyes open.

The last thing he sees before drifting off into sleep is the Trapper getting closer and closer. That grin is seared into his mind.

He starts falling but he never hits the ground. No, something so much bigger than the world is consuming him. Nothingness surrounds him, yet there’s something pulling at him. It’s digging into his flesh and ripping it all off, sending shocks of blood into the blackness. His limbs are falling away and his eyes are coming out and his mind is numb. For a brief moment, David experiences what it feels like to feel absolutely nothing. Did he even exist in that second?

Did he die?

\-----

  
David King is not a weak man. If he was, he wouldn’t have survived this long in the Entity’s realm. No survivor can step up to a killer like he can. Nobody else can take a hit like he can. And yet, every hero has an Achilles's heel of some sort. There’s always something that can break a man.

Nothing’s ever been the same. They don’t really understand what it was like, but the way they look at him... It fills him with an emotion he can’t explain. It’s similar to the anger he has always felt, yet whenever he tries to sit down and think about it, to simply feel it, there’s this impossible mental wall. Adrenaline starts coursing and he can’t help but get up and try to fight it. The only way he can stay sane anymore is by wearing himself down until he can’t even think about it.

The more things change, the more they stay the same, huh?

“David?” It’s Dwight’s voice. David doesn’t even look away from the tree he’s been punching. His knuckles are absolutely covered with blood already, but it’s not enough. It still doesn’t hurt enough. “Can we talk? I think we should talk about, um… About what happened. It’s been a while and I--”

“What’s there to talk about?” David scoffs. “Do you want me to feel bad for ya? Want me to pretend like it’s all dandy? Well, fuck right off. It ain’t happening.”

“We just-- we’re worried about you.”

David puts the entire weight of his body into one last punch and he hits the tree hard enough to cause a sickening crunch deep in his hand. “So ya think I’m weak, that it? I ain’t even fazed. I’ve seen worse shit than you can imagine, Dwight. You haven’t heard the half of it.”

Dwight just bites his lip and stares, unable to come up with anything to respond with. This obviously ain’t going how he wanted it to.

“You came all this way and that’s all you can manage to say, huh?” His voice shakes more than it should. “Shove off before I start beating you.” David turns around with a blank expression on his face. There wasn’t an ounce of humor in his voice, but it must have somehow come off as a joke, ‘cause Dwight is just standing there.

“I’m sorry.” He simply says, and that’s the last chance he gets to talk since a heavy fist breaks his jaw before any more bullshit can spill out.

It doesn’t end there, though. Dwight drops to the floor and David can’t stop himself from kicking the man in the ribs until he coughs up blood onto the ground. Each thump of his boot colliding with Dwight’s stomach, each groan of pain, spurs David into going further. He’s slamming his hands into Dwight’s battered face over and over again until the only sound he makes is a sloppy sob.

David can taste the blood. He touches the splatters on his arms, his jaw slacked in stunned silence. The world falls away from him, all heat disappearing from his body, as he stares at what he did. His chest heaves, his stomach turning, but nothing comes out of him. God, he wishes something would. Maybe then someone would know that he felt bad. Does he feel bad? Why doesn’t he feel bad about this?

What the fuck has he become if this is a question he has to ask himself?

Any normal human being would feel bad about it, but the Entity has torn him apart and put him back together so many times that something must have went horribly wrong and now there’s something fucking wrong with him. Why else would he be standing there, contemplating if he was allowed to listen to what his brain has been screaming at him all this time?

It felt good. That’s always why he’s done it. What’s changed? Why does he only now hate the sting of skin on skin?

The question echoes in his mind. He never thought the taste of blood was bad. The rush he felt when he swung at Dwight again, the adrenaline high that pushed him to keep swinging, the tingling in his bones as he pulled away. It all felt so warm, unlike everything else the Entity has given them. Not even the synthetic heat of the fire could compare to what David feels in his guts. The carnal pleasure of laying in bed with another could never compare to this. No apology could ever fix this.

This is what you were made for, David King.

Hurting. Hurting others is all David has done his whole life. Pushing people away, throwing hands, learning to love the pain… He knows the others are scared of him. All he is to them is some big scary British guy. That’s all he was back home, too. He’d fight and bleed but it was never enough for anyone, not even himself. There was always a bigger thrill to chase, and, finally, he’s found it. All those years he spent, fighting and fucking, can’t compare to the euphoria of what he could do in the Entity’s realm.

It’s so wonderful.

Yeah, it really is.

Wouldn’t it feel great if you could do it over and over again?

Yeah, it would be.

What do you say? Do you want to?

Have you ever wondered what your reflection in the mirror thought of you? Does it prefer its own warped world or is it jealous of you? Which side would you like to be on? It might be impossible to truly choose. The grass is always greener on the other side, but fuck, it would feel so good to climb that fence.

David never does answer the voice echoing in his head. Instead, he simply walks away, leaving Dwight crying on the ground. There are much more important things to deal with.

The conversation at the fire dies immediately when David emerges from the shroud of the woods. The blood coating his arms scares everyone. They all just stare, as if they can’t look away lest they become the next victim. David doesn’t mind since he’s lost in his own head, busy plotting away what he’s gonna do in the next trial. Time crawls by so slowly, and he only moves from his seat by the fire when he finally decides that he’s gonna need another to help bring his plan to fruition.

It wasn’t hard to enlist Nea into his schemes. She’s one of the only people who isn’t fazed by his demeanor or the blood staining his skin. Though their past together’s been plagued by countless arguments and a mutually shared resentment for each other, their mutual goal brought them together long enough to concoct a scheme just wild enough to work. After all, Nea hates the killers far more than anyone else, and David’s proposal was far too hard to pass up. The only thing in their way was getting lucky enough to end up in a trial with the Trapper. They must have gone through the whole laundry list of killers before finding themselves against that motherfucker.

David’s heart rate spiked as he swung his head around, scanning the Entity’s realm for any sign of the Trapper. A fountain, a Jigsaw box, a phantasm trap. There was always some kinda tell, and he was ready to be disappointed yet again, but this time, he finally finds what he’s looking for. Just beneath the window of the MacMillan foundry sits the rusty jaws of a bear trap. A melange of emotions fills him, threatening to spill out of his mouth, but maybe that’s just vomit rising in his throat. All he has to do now is find Nea and they can get started.

Fortunately, it’s not long before they find each other. No words are exchanged, only mischievous glances. In the time it took for them to meet up, Meg already got hooked and Jake managed to get a genny done. Not too bad for so early in the trial, but David has no intention of doing the objective. If all goes well, the killer’s gonna be distracted plenty long enough for the others to finish the rest of the gens.

In a strange turn of events, David and Nea end up tailing the Trapper around the map for a good while. The throbbing heartbeat in their heads is hard to ignore, their bodies screaming at them to get away, but the thrill of the hunt is intoxicating. A length of rope dangles from Nea’s slender hands, her fingers digging into its frayed strings. David didn’t ask where she had found it, but she was more than willing to donate some of the junk that she’s scavenged if it was for a worthy cause.

Picking up a two-by-four out of a pile of debris, David creeps along the wall of the foundry until they hit a corner, which he sneakily peers around. The Trapper stops dead in his tracks right outside the door to the foundry, presumably picking up on the sounds of the half-finished gen inside. His head cranes to the side and his neck bends uncomfortably far around. David ducks back, afraid of getting spotted, and when he checks again, the Trapper has disappeared from sight. A pressure builds in the pit of stomach, but he swallows back the fear and keeps following with Nea at his side.

The Trapper’s footsteps echo throughout the open room, bouncing between the walls until the sound escapes out the broken windows. Whoever was fixing the generator is long gone by now. Adrenaline pumps into David’s veins as the Trapper draws closer to the generator. It’s all or nothing now.

As soon as the Trapper moves to kick the gen, David brings the piece of wood down as hard as he can, snapping in two as it collides with the back of the Trapper’s skull. Like before, he stumbles to the ground, dazed, but in the precious seconds they have before he gets back up, David swings around and gives the signal. “Nea, now!”

She dashes out from the shadows, handing a length of rope to David, and the two get straight to tying the killer’s limbs together. By the time the Trapper starts struggling against the rope, they’ve already tied a couple knots to keep the binds together. The Trapper flips over onto his side to glare up at David, who has the widest grin on his face. “Ain’t so tough now, eh?” He laughs, holding out his hand to get a fistbump from Nea. She rolls her eyes but begrudgingly indulges him with a quick tap.

“Do you really think this’ll work?” The Trapper snarls out. His vicious tone seems to alarm Nea, as she takes a quiet step backwards. The monster of a man before them squirms and growls as he tries to break the rope holding his arms and legs together, but for some reason, he finds no success.

David turns to Nea, brow low as he points over his shoulder. “Go and fix up a genny, Nea. I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you guys.”

Though clearly reluctant to go, the electric energy in the room is too uncomfortable to suffer through, so she silently trots backwards until the shadows consume her and she disappears without a trace. They already have enough fun fucking around, and even an idiot would be able to tell that what’s coming next isn’t gonna be fun. The fire in David’s eyes was all she needed to see to know that.

The blade of the machete grinds against the cement floor as David gingerly picks it up. Blood stains the cold steel, muddying it far beyond the point of reflection. He stares into it, hoping to see himself in some forgotten corner of the blade, but instead he finds himself wondering just who’s blood he’s looking at. Is it a melange of the blood drawn from everyone’s guts? Or is it his? He hovers the machete over the Trapper’s writhing body.

“Funny how the Entity’s not too keen on helping you now, ain’t it?” David says with his voice flat. He feels weirdly calm despite the circumstances. “This how you feel all the time? It’s nice seeing a guy struggle like this. Reminds me a lil’ of back home.”

“Don’t get cocky.” The Trapper retorts, but the threat falls on deaf ears. David’s long past listening to anything the bastard has to say.

“I’ve been thinkin’...” The tip of the blade slides over the Trapper’s exposed chest, drawing a long and thin line of blood. Before continuing his monologue, David steps over to the Trapper’s bound legs and eyes the man’s body up and down. “About what you did to me. Haven’t slept a wink since. I’ve been keepin’ myself up, wondering, what should I be doin’ about it? Just lie down and cry like a lil’ bitch? Nah, mate. I came up with something much better.”

David drops down, dipping the blade of the machete under the buckle of the Trapper’s overalls, but before he can tear it off, a hand shoots out and grabs his wrist. David’s body hits the ground, sending a shock of pain through his shoulder. Before he can even get himself back on his feet, he’s picked up off the floor and heavy hands wrap around his throat. The room’s spinning around him as he tries to get his bearings, but thought isn’t needed to fight. The sensation is all too familiar and his honed instinct is all he needs to stay alive.

Tucking in his neck, David slides his upper body down and forward until he slips out of the Trapper’s grip. He ducks backwards, but before he can jump out of the way, the Trapper charges forward. His body slams David against the wall and his hands return to David’s throat, pressing much harder than before. Seconds slip away as David claws at the Trapper’s giant hands. Luckily, he manages to catch hold of the weakest finger and he drives it down, cracking it all the way back until it’s parallel with the Trapper’s hand again. The Trapper growls out in pain and his arms buckle. In that moment of weakness, David breaks the Trapper’s hold by throwing his arm into the Trapper’s and then slamming his elbow into the man’s jaw. Before the Trapper can recover from his stagger, David surfaces behind him and picks the fallen blade up off the ground.

His mind is empty as he drives the machete through the Trapper’s gut. A splash of blood hits the wall. He falls into his own bloodstain after the blade pulls back out. David waits for the Trapper to get back up, expecting the Entity to have his back yet again, but he never does. Instead, he just sinks down to the ground with his hand clutching at his bleeding belly.

“What’s wrong?” David taunts, cracking a smile. “Can’t take whatcha dish out, mate?”

The Trapper doesn’t respond, instead choosing to just stare at David with his mouth hanging open. It doesn’t take much longer until David finally realizes that the Entity isn’t going to step in on this one. A rush of excitement fills him as he processes just how much power he has wrestled away from a killer. The shock of the situation seems to be paralyzing the Trapper, so, seizing the moment, David digs the machete into the Trapper’s chest until he screams out in pain. It echoes into the night. It echoes in David’s head. It sounds so beautiful. Once he’s satisfied, David drags the Trapper away from the wall until he’s lying in the middle of the room.

The Trapper clutches at the blade stuck in him until David slides it out again, throwing it to the side. Blood coats David’s hands as he tears off the Trapper’s stained overalls, revealing the full damage of the wounds he inflicted. Bits of intestine stick out from the hole carved in his stomach. Blood pools in his abdominal cavity as his organs leak out various fluids.

“Lemme show you how it feels, you bloody cunt.” David peels off the Trapper’s clothes until his cock is fully revealed. Clenching his jaw tightly, David slides off his belt and digs out his own dick. It’s semi-stiff already due to all the chemicals coursing through him, so he just rubs himself until he’s fully erect. David pins the Trapper’s legs down with his body as he starts jerking him off. He can only groan and writhe under David’s touch. The pain is debilitating him as he chokes on his own blood.

Grinding his cock against the Trapper, David grabs hold of the Trapper’s legs and lifts them until his taint is exposed. The manly musk fills the air as a mixture of sweat, saliva, and blood guides his dick into the Trapper’s ass. The lack of proper lubrication tears at their skin, but David hardly notices in the heat of the moment. His eyes are fixated on the Trapper’s unmoving mask, desperately searching for any sign of emotion behind it. Every twitch and groan he elicits out of the man encourages him to go harder and faster. His arms burn as he holds up the Trapper’s weight. It feels so damn good. The Trapper’s soft dick bounces up and down as Davids pumps in and out.

The minutes pass by so slowly, but eventually David manages to cum inside of the Trapper’s ass. A wave of euphoria crashes into him as he pulls out, dripping thick lines of semen onto the floor. The Trapper has stopped moving, his clenched hands frozen over his spilled guts. “How’d ya like that, huh!?” David shouts out, crawling up the Trapper’s body. “You fuckin’ hear me, bitch?”

There’s nothing going on behind that mask anymore. Either he passed out or he’s dead. David frowns to himself, oddly unsatisfied. He pushes himself up off the Trapper’s body and looks down at his hands. Dark red paints his fingers and wiping his palms on his pants doesn’t gets rid of the stain. Stuffing his sopping dick back into his pants, David stumbles backwards. He stares down at what he’s done.

Maybe he should feel something. Part of him wishes he would throw up or cry or scream or just something, but no. David had hoped that he would finally get better once the throbbing in his head would fade away, but it doesn’t happen. He wanted the storm in his head to pass, but he’s stuck with the same old song stuck on repeat. It’s stuck on repeat. He’s stuck thinking.

It hurts to think.

This is what you were made for, David King.

The words keep echoing in his mind. It’s so much easier to just listen than try to block it out.

Do it.

do it do it do it do it do it do it do it

He lifts the machete off the ground and turns away from the corpse at his feet. A generator sputters to life in the distance.


End file.
